


Who's My Good Boy

by hpkinkfest_mod



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Animagus Bestiality, Auto Cunnilingus, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hand Jobs, Infidelity, Knotting, Lactation, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 01:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5893270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpkinkfest_mod/pseuds/hpkinkfest_mod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione's experiences being Polyjuiced into a cat left her with appetites that will shape her sexual desires and relationships later in life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who's My Good Boy

Looking back, Hermione placed the blame squarely on herself. If she hadn't been so reckless as to assume the hair on Millicent Bulstrode's robes was from Millicent and not her cat, she wouldn’t have done some of the things she did when she was older.

Being Polyjuiced into a cat was not only humiliating, but quite inconvenient. Hermione was laid up for five and a half weeks in the Infirmary, while Professor Snape brewed an antidote to her colossal screw-up. Not only did she have to face the additional disapproval of a professor that already did not care for her based on her personal associations and House affiliation (not to mention his verbal lashings for stealing from him), she also had to battle with the instinctual habits of being part-cat.

It was extremely uncomfortable to sit there, day in-day out, with her fur rubbing against the nightgown she wore. Then there were the other aspects she had to deal with, such as the instinct to clean herself with her tongue. 

Christmas night, Hermione was shuttled off to a corner of the Infirmary and put away behind cloth dividers that hid her away from curious eyes of others who might traipse into the ward, seeking medical attention. Lying in bed, her night gown chaffing and rubbing against her fur the wrong way, and feeling foolish and sad, Hermione began to mewl plaintively, but stopped herself.

Hermione began licking her arm, her tongue stroking along her sleek fur, and found to it be a soothing act. It was a much quieter activity than plaintively yowling away to calm herself. Something else Hermione discovered is that being partially turned into a cat gave her greater flexibility. She began licking her feet and legs, working her way along, just like most cats did.

When her face finally reached that spot between her legs, she noticed that part of her body still held human form. If Hermione was in her complete human form, she would not have even considered licking herself down there, but with her mind influenced by the cat she had become infused with, she didn't stop herself. As her rough cat-like tongue swept along her clitoris and along her labia, Hermione stifled a gasp, noting that felt good. It felt incredibly good.

Hermione spent the next half hour, thankful for the dividers to hide her away, as she lapped and licked and stroked herself with her tongue and nose until she finally experienced her first orgasm. She had read about what an orgasm was in her parents various medical books at home, but she never quite imagined it feeling quite so glorious and relaxing, especially since she had never really tried masturbating before.

Being the only one in the Infirmary for most of her stay allowed Hermione to enjoy the pleasure of bringing herself off in such a fashion, when she wasn't reading. Even when her treatment progressed such that her paws were finally turned back into fingers, fingers never felt quite so luxurious as a warm, wet rasping tongue stroking and prodding her own folds of flesh until she peaked, learning to climax quietly as to not cause Madam Pomfrey to come check up on her. 

When the fur on Hermione's body began to disappear and her eyes changed from yellow back to brown, the limberness in Hermione's spine which enabled her to bend in half and lick herself to orgasm disappeared as well.

As much as Hermione was glad to no longer be coughing up fur balls and missing time in the classroom with her professors, she did miss that particular sensation and the incredible orgasms she experienced.

~xXx~

As soon as Hermione entered Number Twelve Grimmauld Place for the very first time, she was nearly bowled over by Sirius. Gaily laughing, Hermione was caught up in the infectious enthusiasm of the giant bear-like black dog greeting her, his large paws up on her chest and shoulders, licking her face and neck incessantly.

Feeling the rough tongue rasping against the tender skin of her cheek and neck, as he welcomed the witch who saved him from a fate worse than death, Hermione was reminded of a sensation she had secretly longed for during the past two years. Suddenly feeling her heart beat a bit faster and a blush upon her cheek bloom from recalling such thoughts, Hermione pushed Sirius away.

“Down, boy!” Hermione joked. “Take it easy,” she said mainly for his benefit, but also to herself as she tried to stop forbidden thoughts flooding into her mind.

Hermione wondered if Sirius could smell her sudden arousal and excused herself from his company, rushing off to see Molly to find out which room her and Ginny would be sharing while staying in the decrepit dwelling.

Helping Molly with preparing dinner and settling in, Hermione was able to keep herself busy enough to avoid Sirius. At dinner, Hermione sat with Ron, Ginny, and the twins, chatting excitedly with them as she came up to speed on all that had happened since the end of the school year. Once or twice, Hermione glanced down the table to spy Sirius, Molly and Arthur talking between themselves quietly, and she could have sworn she heard them mention of Harry's name. She was keenly interested in what the adults had planned regarding Harry and when he would join them, but decided that she'd learn what they had in store soon enough. There was a fleeting moment where Sirius' eyes locked with Hermione; it was enough for her to turn her face away quickly and avoid glancing back down the table for the rest of dinner. She hoped she wasn't blushing.

It was three days later when Hermione and Sirius had their first conversation. Molly had taken the twins, Ron and Ginny out for new school clothes and supplies, Arthur was at work, and Snape was off doing whatever Death Eaters who spy for the Order did.

Hermione was keeping herself busy by either reading or cleaning house. Presently, she was in the larder, trying to eradicate an infestation of miller moths that had found their way into the cereals and grains. Swishing her wand to and fro, she noticed the light streaming into the pantry momentarily darken.

“I never did have a chance to properly thank you for saving me from a certain terrible demise,” Sirius said humbly, standing behind her.

“Oh!” Hermione jumped a bit, startled by his sudden presence and taken aback by his grateful demeanor. “It was the right thing to do. It would not have been right to let a wrongfully accused man be punished for a crime he did not commit and implicated by the treachery of others,” she said a bit formally, stopping to look at him over her shoulder.

Regarding him, he looked quite haggard for a thirty-five year old, Muggle or wizard. She supposed that being locked up in a depressing place like Azkaban could prematurely age anyone. She could still see a spark of the handsome young wizard that he was once before peek through when he smiled at her.

“If there is anything I can do for you, as a sign of my thanks, please let me know.” He bowed his head before turning back into a large black dog. 

Padding up to Hermione, he briefly licked her hand as a sincerely gesture of his gratitude.

This made Hermione laugh and fully turn around to smile at the dog. She knew it was really Sirius, but there was something incredibly disarming about him in this form, as if a dog could have no ulterior motive than to seek companionship and be affectionate.

Hermione bent down and scratched him behind the ears, which he appreciated and began to lick her face and neck enthusiastically. This only made her laugh more. Her laughter was not so much done in sincere spontaneity, but out of nervousness. The rough swipe of Padfoot’s tongue along her skin was quickly arousing her. She could feel a sudden warmth spreading through her lower abdomen and her breaths suddenly become short.

When Hermione felt herself those familiar stirrings, she was ashamed. She wanted Padfoot to lick her in places with that tongue that hadn't been licked in a long while. Hermione weakly protested, saying with little conviction, “Stop.”

The laughter ebbed from her lips, and she knew she was blushing. Standing up once more, she quickly ran past Padfoot and fled to her bedroom. When Hermione was a part-cat, she could easily smell those particular scents and understood what they meant. There was no doubt Padfoot, and hence Sirius, would know what they meant as well.

Alone in her room, hoping that the rest of the Weasleys would not be back soon, Hermione laid in bed, her hand stroking herself, trying to seek completion and release from this tension that began building inside of her the moment she stepped foot in this damnable dark home, filled with house-elves that insulted her and paintings that screamed bigoted filth about her heritage.

It was no use, Hermione could not orgasm. Instead, her mind fantasized on how good Sirius' tongue would feel betwixt her thighs. As Ginny came into the room they shared, Hermione pretended to be waking from a nap. There was certainly no way she would ever tell Ginny her secret.

Fortunately, Harry arrived a few days later, which kept Hermione busy, as well as Sirius. There was little chance of them being alone together, much to Hermione's equal hope and lament.

A few nights later, Hermione found she couldn't sleep. Tossing and turning, she did the only thing she could when she was unable to sleep.

Hermione crept down to the library and lit a few candles with her wand. Before she could pick a book off the shelf to read, she heard the plaintive whine of a dog coming from behind the couch. The sound of Padfoot's heavy paws gently thumped on the carpet as he came around to spy Hermione by the bookcase.

Turning back into his human form, Sirius adjusted his jacket with a sharp yank. “I'm sorry, if I'm intruding into your night time reading habits, Hermione. If you want me to go to–“

“No!” Hermione said a bit more forcefully than she meant. “No, I couldn't sleep.”

“I find my mind is less cluttered and my heart does not seem to weigh quite so heavily when I'm in my other form, which is why I find sleeping as a dog is the only way I can get a good night's rest,” he admitted with candor, his hands spread wide open for her judgment on his comment.

Hermione laughed. “During my second year, I made Polyjuice Potion and instead of using the hair of another witch, I accidentally used her cat's hair and was turned part-cat. I found sleeping at night to be hard, until I was turned back, since cats tend to be nocturnal.” 

Sirius and Hermione shared a laugh and a few examples of how their normal human mind worked differently than during their transformed selves.

When there was a moment of awkward silence that descended between them, Hermione asked, “How often do you think the animal part of yourself influences your human self, when in human form?”

“How do you mean exactly?” 

“Well...” Hermione blushed and ducked her head down, turning away to blankly glance at the titles on the spines of the dusty tomes in front of her rather than look at the wizard next to her. “I mean, there were things I did that were instinctual for cats, and since I have been restored back to my fully adult human form, I find my mind drifting back, wishing to... Thinking about those things I did, and had the instinctual desire to do,” she finished somewhat clumsily in her explanation.

A look of understanding dawned on Sirius' face. “You mean, does the animal you once were continue to influence and drive you to do or seek things while in human form?”

Hermione could not find the voice to agree, hearing Sirius' comprehension of her question in the tone of his voice. She merely nodded.

“You were twelve when your mishap with Polyjuice Potion happened?”

“Thirteen.”

“I see.” Sirius moved closer, but not in a way that was seductive, just to speak in a quieter voice of confidence. “Have you considered that it is the normal blooming of your desires, and that the change may have only been the catalyst to accelerate it?”

Hermione shook her head. “Last year, there was a boy... Viktor. He kissed me, and though while nice, it doesn't drive me to distraction or make my inside turnover thinking about it versus...” She stopped, then shook her head, too embarrassed to say.

Sirius moved close enough so that he was right next to her. Placing a gentle hand upon her shoulder, he whispered, “It's all right. You can tell me.”

“I'm not interested in _you_ that way,” she said, lifting a shoulder up to shrug away his touch. “I mean, you're old enough to be my father.” She moved a few steps away and closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against a dusty shelf. “But when you're Padfoot...”

“When I'm Padfoot,” Sirius continued on, “you find yourself trusting me a bit more? More at ease?”

Hermione shook her head. “Nevermind,” she choked out and made to turn to leave.

Before she could, she heard the plaintive whine of Padfoot next to her, nuzzling his nose into her hand, licking it in a simple act of trying to console her.

Smiling weakly, she glanced down to see those large gray eyes looking up at her expectantly, his brows raised curiously.

She sat right down next to Padfoot and pet him, as he tenderly licked the trail of tears away from her face. 

Reveling in the feel of his tongue on her face, she sighed sweetly and turned her face up. Padfoot began licking along her jaw and down her neck. Hermione leaned back against the bookcase and wrapped her arms around his neck, encouraging Padfoot to settle close to her as he continued to lick.

“Yes,” she breathed, feeling herself aroused.

Padfoot stopped, and gave a short questioning whine. 

Hermione looked at him, eyes heavy with growing lust. “This is what I couldn't say to your face when you were Sirius.”

Padfoot grazed his snout along her neck and she sighed longingly. He then started licking her skin along her collar bone.

Without word, Hermione began unbuttoning her nightgown. Taking her action as permission, he licked slower along the tops of her breasts. With one hand, Hermione pulled her nightgown to the side and allowed him access to her breasts. There was a short whine and movement indicating growing excitement as Padfoot began to lap at Hermione's left breast excitedly.

As his rough tongue swiped across her nipple, she hissed out more encouragement. “Yesss, oh yessss.” Her head rolled back and she parted her nightgown wider to let him lick both breasts.

Hermione was in heaven, feeling the familiar rasp of a rough tongue pleasuring her once more. She had been going through another growth spurt and her breasts were especially sensitive this past summer. 

Padfoot buried his nose in between her firm and pert breasts and greedily licked away, enjoying the sounds of pleasure Hermione made, small whimpers of her own in the back of her throat.

Unconsciously, Hermione moved her hand between her legs and began stroking herself. Every swipe of her fingers across her clit with her finger, she imagined the rough tough of Padfoot's tongue instead. When she realized what she was doing, right in front of Padfoot, who was merely Sirius transformed, she yanked her hand up and out from between her legs.

Before Hermione could apologize, Padfoot stopped licking her breasts and began ravenously lapping away at the juices coating her fingers and hand, making small noises that he wanted more as he cleaned up every last bit of her essence, her scent driving him to distraction.

Grabbing Padfoot by the face with both hands, she looked deeply into the wizard-beasts eyes as asked nervously, “You're not disgusted at the idea of that? Licking me down there?”

Padfoot jumped away and made a playful stance, bending his front low to the ground and wagging his tail excitedly, making the softest of begging noises as he began crawling with small increments of his paws toward her, between her legs.

Hermione couldn't believe it, but without hesitation, she parted her legs wide apart and lifted her nightgown up and over her knees.

“Please, Padfoot. Be my good boy,” she whispered huskily, more turned on than she had ever been in her young life.

Reverently, as much as a dog could be, Padfoot moved his snout up between Hermione's legs and she closed her eyes. She heard him snuffling, inhaling her aroused scent before tentatively licking her vulva with that first swipe of his long tongue.

Hermione gasped and placed her hands gently upon his neck. “Yes, Padfoot, just like that.” She began to stroke his head and neck as the beast ran his tongue up and down her folds, rubbing her clitoris with each swipe.

Panting laboriously, she whispered as quietly as she could for him to keep going, that he wasn't being too rough. “More, that's it, more, lick me harder,” she pleaded, as she began to slide down against the bookcase until she was flat on her back, encouraging Padfoot to go to town on her, devouring her as a dog would with a plate of raw hamburger, greedily licking and lapping away. 

When Padfoot snaked his tongue inside of Hermione, her head shot up. She had never felt anything quite so exquisite as that. Spreading herself as wide as possible, she begged him to do that some more.

Padfoot concentrated solely on plunging that long and eager tongue up into Hermione vagina, as if seeking a treat just beyond his reach. As his tongue entered her time and time again, his wet nose rose up and rubbed against her clit.

Sooner than Hermione anticipated, a building heat began to grow inside of her. Overwhelmed and enthralled, her back arched up off the moldy carpet and she came with a restrained whimper, trying to remain quiet, her body shuddering with delight at the sensation of Padfoot tongue fucking her.

Laying there, panting breathlessly, the tonguing continued on between her legs at a much more languid pace. She enjoyed the lingering attention after her orgasm, stroking Padfoot's fur in appreciation of his efforts to please her.

Suddenly, she felt a change in shape, weight and touch. Sirius was laying there between her legs, his tongue lazily swirling around her clitoris and humming to himself with pleasure, his face coated in her juices. His hand was tendering stroking her hip, the other playing with her breast in a way that was quite pleasurable as he plucked and stroked the nipple.

Seeing Sirius between her legs, she started and sat up, yanking her nightgown down to cover herself for modesty sake, looking at him and ashamed.

“I'm sorry, I forgot myself,” Sirius apologized quickly before turning himself back into Padfoot.

Hermione relaxed, once he was back in dog form again. “I'm sorry. I know it seems confusing or silly, but I feel more comfortable and at ease with you as Padfoot than I do as Sirius. When you're human, I see Harry's godfather, but when you're like this...” She roughly stroked the fur along his neck and nuzzled her face with his.

Padfoot licked Hermione along the face and she laughed softly. The large animal settled itself into Hermione's arms like a giant baby and began licking at her breasts and nipples once more.

Looking down at Padfoot lazily lapping away with rhythmic strokes of his tongue you could set a metronome to, Hermione explained, “Before I turned myself into a cat, I never masturbated. However, once I was stuck in the Infirmary, though my animalistic side I discovered and explored parts of me I had never given a second thought.” Then looking away with an ironic smile, she admitted, “There has only been one thing I missed about being partially turned into a cat, and being able to lick myself to orgasm is it.”

Padfoot adjusted himself, pulling himself out from her lap, and she could have sworn she heard him snicker. He then bent himself over and began to lick his own cock, which was swollen, the red tip of it just starting to poke out from its fur sheath. He then flopped on his back and gave a short whine, twisting and snuggling up along her side.

“You want me to return the favor with a hand job?” she asked, uncertain if this is what he meant.

Padfoot gave the quietest of approving barks and licked her arm to signal she guessed correctly.

“I suppose since you were such a good boy...” Hermione trailed off affectionately, dropping her voice towards the end of the sentence, talking sweetly to him. 

She rubbed the fur along his stomach until she reached his cock. Grasping his shaft within the fur sheath, she coyly admitted, “I've never done this before – ever, so you may have to be patient.”

Experimentally, Hermione moved her hand up and down the length, noticing how his penis continued to extend past the sheath, getting longer and thicker.

Padfoot was panting, his eyes closed and tongue hanging out of his mouth as Hermione stroked him. His cock now extended far past the sheath, Hermione grasped the vibrantly red flesh and stroked it back and forth. Padfoot's hips moved of their own accord, jerking forward hastily, so Hermione took it as a cue to move her hand faster.

Soon, her hand was quickly stroking Padfoot's length, until it became fully engorged and he came, shooting his seed all over his fur and Hermione's hand. It amazed Hermione how large Padfoot was, fully swollen, and she briefly wondered what it would feel like to having something that large inside of her, if it would even fit. 

Laying on his side, panting heavily, he gently licked Hermione's hand in appreciation of her effort to please him, honored he was her first.

Sensing there was little left for them to do, Hermione rose up off the floor. With her wand, she swished it and cleaned up Padfoot's essence from them both.

“I should go to bed,” she said awkwardly, not knowing how to part from such an intimate moment that they had shared. She knelt back down once more, pressing her forehead against his, whispering, “Thank you very much for understanding, Padfoot, and for bringing me so much pleasure as I have never experienced. I wouldn't mind doing this again,” she said, hoping he understood she had no regrets.

~xXx~

Waking with a lazy smile on her face, Hermione was disheartened to find that having a very satisfying orgasm did not quell the sexual desire that had been building inside of her these past several days, but it only fed the fire. Now she was hornier than ever. Hermione wanted nothing more to do that call Padfoot up into her bedroom, snuggled under the covers with her and lick her until she screamed herself hoarse.

Molly barged in, without so much as a knock to rouse Hermione and Ginny up for breakfast. Taking their lack of desire to jump right out of bed as a sign of laziness, the matronly witch began yanking bedclothes off with her wand. Hermione only just removed her hand from between her legs when she found herself without any covers. 

It irritated Hermione to no end Molly could be so discourteous as to not allow a girl a few moments to collect herself, especially since she was fingering herself and was nearing completion while reliving memories of last night in her head.

Now taut at a drum, Hermione marched downstairs with Ginny to eat breakfast. Sirius was there talking with Arthur and Snape, having a rather heated debate with the latter.

Hermione was glad Snape was there to distract Sirius, since she didn't think she could look him in his human eyes after what transpired the night before. And she hadn't had a chance to wash her hands yet, so she knew her hands smelled of arousal. Fortunately, she was able to rush off to the sink, once the twins moved and wash up before eating.

With her school books already purchased, Hermione kept herself busy by beginning to read her coursework for the coming year, when she wasn't busy continuing to clean Sirius' home top to bottom under Molly's direction.

But despite her day full of back breaking work and earnest studying, Hermione found herself awake once more in the middle of the night. Sneaking downstairs to the library once more, she found Padfoot asleep by the fire. Instead of rousing him, Hermione merely laid on the ground and curled up behind him, stroking his fur tenderly.

There was a great heaving sigh of satisfaction from Padfoot before he craned his neck back and softly licked long her jaw.

“I had trouble sleeping again. I must admit a small part of me is feeling guilty for enjoying what we did last night – as if I'm breaking some great taboo. And a large part of me wants to do that again with you, just the way you are. Wizards... humans... men – boys, actually, I just feel awkward with boys. It's like there is some great expectation or complications where feelings are concerned. Do they truly like me or is it something else? Some boys can be cruel,” she sighed, thinking back to the way Ron behaved towards her during the past year, especially before and during the Yule Ball. “Animals just seem innately incapable of cruelty, and I don't feel as if I'm being judged against other, especially other girls. Animals do not want to be friends with me to copy my homework or get something out of me, or complicate the matter with ulterior motives. It's just seems very straightforward with an animal and I don't have to second guess what you're thinking in this form,” she confessed. “Does that make sense?” She pulled her face back to stare into the beasts' face, his eyes seemingly looking back at her with empathy before he gave her a gentle lick and nuzzle that imparted a feeling of compassion.

Padfoot turned around and began to lick Hermione's face and neck. Hermione threw a leg over his flanks and drew him closer to her body, rubbing his fur along the length of his long back with her hand.

After locking the door with her wand, Hermione removed her nightgown and snuggled back with Padfoot. Luxuriating in the feeling, she began to rub her breasts against his fur and rub her leg up and down the length of his body, reveling in the sensation of his fur against the tender skin of her inner thigh and bare skin.

Soon, the large black beast was licking at her breasts as she brought her hand down between them and slowly stroked Padfoot's engorged cock, their bodied warmed by the warm fire the burned low, casting their bodies in dark muted orange colors.

Padfoot whimpered as he came. After catching his breath, he began to lick his way down Hermione's body, laving attention to her stomach, noticing how her breaths and muted whimpers of delight expressed joy at the sensation. Finally, with his snout buried between her legs, Padfoot, began to lap and probe Hermione in earnest. Even after the first time she came, he allowed her a moments rest before bringing her to completion a second time.

As they lay there, pleasantly exhausted, they cuddled by the fire. Hermione's hand languidly stroked him, continuing to talk about everything and nothing: Her concerns for Harry with the coming year, fretting over her O.W.L.s, wishing for the truth to be known and Sirius was exonerated, wondering who her the new Defense Against he Dark Arts teacher was going to be this year, and other such matters. Padfoot drifted off under the tender care of Hermione's affections.

Now feeling properly sleepy, with Padfoot now snoozing away, Hermione dressed and quietly slunk back upstairs and into bed for a good night's sleep.

~xXx~

The rest of Hermione's summer at Sirius' home was spent the same way, the days with friends, and three or four nights a week with Padfoot in the library, either on the rug in front of the warm fire or on the couch. Sometimes they would begin with a long cuddle, with Hermione telling Padfoot her deepest secrets, fears and desires; other nights, she would arrive horny as hell. She wished she had learned to become an Animagus already, for if her form was canine, she surely would have let Padfoot mount and fuck her by now.

Hermione did consider that, but she decided to keep her virginity and save it for a certain red-headed wizard, who she confessed to Padfoot, she was pining for. It was only with a little embarrassment, she told him as such, being able to tell Padfoot everything without reservation.

During the times Sirius and Hermione crossed paths, Sirius treated her the same as he did the others her age, their secrets held securely with the loyal and silent beast.

It was the end of August and they knew this was their last night together.

Hermione was looking forward to going back to Hogwarts, but she knew she was going to miss cuddling with her unique confessor-cum-lover, and the arrangement they had so comfortably fallen into.

After bringing Hermione to orgasm, Padfoot snuggled up next to Hermione, licking away at her breasts with excited expectation of her attentions.

As her hand reached down, it stilled. With one hand, she stroked the snout and face of Padfoot gently, looking deep into the large animals soulful gray eyes. “Just this once, out of curiosity, I was wondering...” she began, but stopped to swallow hard and muster her courage to ask. “Just this once, I'd like to try this with you, Sirius. Not Padfoot. I want to know if I can connect with a human, like I can when you're in this form.”

 

Padfoot gave a swipe of his tongue along her cheek, expressing understanding before turning into Sirius before Hermione.

 

Sirius lay there before Hermione, completely nude, his male form for her to regard. Hermione blushed, having never seen a grown man undressed, especially with an erection that her hand was still gently grasping.

 

She wanted to turn her face away out of embarrassment, but she knew that was silly, as well as the desire to cover herself since Padfoot, and thereby Sirius, had seen her nude many times before.

 

Slowly, her hand moved down the rigid shaft, and Sirus' brows lifted in exquisite pleasure while a soft sigh escaped his lips. Their eyes locked and they stared at each other as her hand began to move faster. 

 

Both their lips parted and Hermione found herself panting in time with Sirius, turned on at the idea that she was doing this with a grown man – any man.

 

Glancing down at the firm, hot flesh in her hands, she decided to try something she was considering when she made the decision earlier ask Sirius to be with her instead of Padfoot. Shifting her body as they lay by the hearth, she scooted down and kissed the top of Sirius head.

“Ohhh,” Sirius sighed sweetly. He stroked Hermione's hair in a gentle return of affection for all the loving petting she had done to him these past three weeks.

Experimentally, Hermione's tongue swiped along his length and she was rewarded with a stifled gasp of pleasure and the sight of Sirius throwing his head back, his mouth hanging slack. Emboldened, she took his whole length in her mouth and began to lick and suck in earnest, returning a favor he had done so many times for her before. She wanted him to experience the same glorious pleasure he had given her time and time again.

It thrilled Hermione how much animal instinct was still embedded in humans as Sirius' hips began to pump in time to Hermione's head bobbing along his length. She grasped the base of his shaft and synchronized the movements of her hand and mouth, which she sensed increased the pleasure for Sirius.

“Oh, so brilliantly talented you are,” he breathed with reverence, amazed she innately knew how to please him so expertly for her first time.

This turned on Hermione even more, hearing from him she was doing it right.

Sirius placed a gentle hand on Hermione's shoulder to get her to momentarily stop when he noticed she was gagging a little bit when she attempted to take him deeply into her mouth.

“Here, this may be a bit more comfortable for you this way,” he suggested as he turned around and guided her head back down towards his cock, while encouraging her to straddle his face.

Hermione went back to taking Sirius back into her mouth, giving her best effort for her very first blow job, but stop and gasped sharply in surprise when Sirius began licking her with his own tongue between her folds. 

The lust-fogged witch concentrated as best she could, but found it hard to concentrate as Sirius used his human fingers and tongue to bring Hermione to yet another rousing orgasm, a sensation wholly different, yet no less wonderful from the others she had experienced with Padfoot. 

Coming down off her peak, Hermione concentrated on the task of bringing Sirius to orgasm. She was rewarded with the sensation of Sirius shuddering under her and the taste of his semen filling her mouth. She was unprepared, but when the moment came, she decided to swallow, having heard tales that men like that. Hermione wanted to please him. She did not find the taste as repulsive as she was told, but thought it was slightly sweet.

She swallowed and lapped away the rest that has spilled down Sirius' cock.

Sirius turned around and cuddled up close to Hermione in human form.

As they both lay there, both lightly covered in sweat, Hermione breathed, “Thank you for understanding.”

Knowing Hermione preferred the silence of an unconditional ear in these tender post-orgasmic moments, he said nothing. He gave a little lick of her ear.

Feeling more at ease with the concept of Sirius laying there with her instead of her companion's usual form, Hermione spoke. “I was wondering if the feel of a man doing that instead of you in... well, as Padfoot, would ever feel as good.”

Sirius said nothing, but nudged her for a response with his nose against her shoulder.

“Yes, it was just as wonderful, but in a different way,” she said, recalling the way her insides twisted with the intimacy of the moment, being there with another man, as if it was something more sacred, more intense.

“I was beginning to worry that I'd only ever feel comfortable with Padfoot, that I couldn't allow myself to be with a man that way, but...” She shook her head. “I was beginning to wonder if I was some sort of deviant, that I'd never allow another man to touch me this intimately, or I wouldn't enjoy it.” Turning around to face Sirius, she cupped his face in her hands. “Thank you.”

Hermione gave Sirius a long, lingering kiss. Sirius enfolded Hermione in his arms, stroking her back and hip with his hands.

When she pulled her face away, there was a shimmer of tears brimming in her eyes.

Without another word, Hermione dressed quickly and left the library, leaving Sirius laying nude by the fire, regarding her with fondness before she shut the door.

~xXx~

When Padfoot decided to follow Harry to Kings Cross, Hermione wanted to beg him not to go, but she knew he loved his godson and wanted to see him off. Hanging her head outside the window of the train, she waved farewell, and even blew him a kiss. She didn't know if Sirius saw that simple gesture of affection, but it made Hermione happy to bestow it.

As Hermione changed into her school clothes and pulled on her Gryffindor robes, she felt something in her pocket. Reaching deep inside, she pulled out a letter. On the front of the envelope, it was addressed, “To My Queen.”

Hermione shoved the letter back inside her pocket, wishing to read it at her leisure, and knowing there was a line for the toilets in which to change into school uniforms.

During the Welcome Feast, Hermione's hand would slide down into her pocket and finger the edge of the envelope, toying with the flap and wax seal, eager to read the contents of the letter, wondering who the letter was from, but having a strong suspicion. Even the addressing of the envelope made her have a vague idea of what the letter might include.

Once Hermione finished getting the first years into the Gryffindor Common Room, briefing them on rules and customs she was supposed to impart, since Ron wasn't going to tell them, and sorting them into their respective dorms, she decided a soak in the Prefect's bathroom would be the perfect place in which to read her letter.

With the door locked and the tub filled with colorful, floral scented bubbles, Hermione slid into the warm waters. A charm placed on the letter made sure it was water repellent and the water would not smudge the ink.

 

_  
My Dearest Queen,_

_I address you as such for female cats are either referred to a Molly or a Queen. You are no Molly, but queenly regal with your spirit. Your heart is quite noble and your intellect beyond reproach. You are indeed a Queen, in spirit to the cat you once were infused with, but more so with your being._

_I am extremely humbled by the fact you have not only allowed me, as Padfoot, to share such intimacies with and bring you great pleasure, but that you shared the most secret of your hopes and fears with me in those quiet moments together. And for the fact you reciprocated such tender affections to bring me pleasure and release as well, I am truly in your debt, in addition to being my savior from injustice._

_You said during out last night, “Thank you,” to me. It is I who must thank you. Having spent twelve years incarcerated in Azkaban, I wondered if I would ever be able to connect with another human, having trouble to adjusting to the life of a semi-free man, still falsely accused, but away from that depressing hell-hole I was once cast into._

_With your trust that I keep the secrets you told me as Padfoot and the privilege of allowing to experience such tender intimacies with you, you have restored my faith that there is something good in this world, something besides Harry, to continue fighting for. You are what I hope our future for wizardkind beholds._

_Were you the age of consent and finished with your schooling, I would sweep you away and ask you to be mine, appreciating a mind as brilliant and a heart as loving and compassionate as yours. But as you once noted, I am far older than you. Your whole young life lays ahead of you, and I would not dare to rob you of the joys to come. It would not be fair of me to take away the opportunity for you to finally fall in love with that red-headed wizard you're longing for. I hope that when Ronald finally realizes what an exceptional witch you are, he treasures you as you should be._

_As for the days ahead, I share your fears and then some, still remembering the days of the first war. Yes, I foresee that we will both lose friends, but I shall ever and eternally be your friend, even if I do not live to see the end of this war._

_Should you ever need my friendship and companionship as either Sirius or Padfoot, I am your servant. I shall be there for you in whatever capacity you need, as you have been there for me this past summer, giving without me having to even ask._

_With deepest gratitude,_

_Sirius and Padfoot_

__

Hermione was deeply moved by Sirius' letter. She read it over and over again until the bath had gone tepid and her toes had pruned badly.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When the Battle of the Department of Mysteries was done, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Neville and Luna spent time recovering in the Infirmary. That first night, once Hermione was sure everyone else was asleep, she cried in relief that Sirius had not died. She had seen Bellatrix cast the Killing Curse and luckily Sirius dodged behind a pillar just in time. She did not want to fathom a world where Harry was bereft of the only real paternal figure he had ever had in his life, and Hermione would be without her confessor and friend.

Now with the proof that Peter Petigrew was still alive, Sirius was exonerated. He was finally a truly free wizard, and Hermione was glad for him.

During the next summer, for Harry's safety, it was thought best he stayed at the Burrow. Hermione was somewhat disappointed that she wasn't staying at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place too, but the time with the Weasley family back in familiar surroundings put everyone at ease, despite the threat of Voledmort's return.

The few times Sirius came to the Burrow to visit, it was brief, with time spent with Harry or members of the Order discussing matters with urgent whispers and furrowed brows, along with great pots of tea and bottles of spirits served to calm nerves.

In a way, Hermione was thankful that she didn't have time to spend with Sirius, as that allowed her to be more in the moment when she was with her friends, instead of her mind drifting elsewhere. It also gave her time to become closer to Ron, though Ron seemed oblivious as ever to Hermione's fondness for him.

Later during the school year, when Ron won the Quidditch game, Hermione was so happy, but all her joy came crashing down when Lavender went right up to Ron and snogged him right in front of the whole of Gryffindor House. What made Hermione's heartbreak even worse was Ron eagerly snogging her right back.

Hermione couldn't stand it. She wanted to run away. Had she permission to leave school grounds and her Apparition license, she would have run off to Sirius' arms for a good cry. As it was, she was stuck, unable to leave. Fortunately, Harry came along and provided a compassionate, non-judgmental shoulder for her to cry on. Harry had always been such a good friend, and if anyone could understand and know the pain she was in, it was Harry; though she did wish he sported a thick pelt of fur to snuggle against to help soothe her.

But whatever comfort Harry provided vanished when Ron and Lavender barged in on their private moment.

Even thinking about it afterwards, Hermione had no regret about cursing Ron.

Later on, Hermione did write a letter.

 

_  
Dearest Padfoot,_

_I write to you, for you were and still are my confessor, my absolver of worries, the keeper of my secrets._

_I am devastated. That blond tart, Lavender Brown, went up and snatched Ron away from me. Out of the blue, she comes up and snogs him in front of the whole of Gryffindor in the Common Room, right after we won the game._

_I know it seems a petty thing when there are greater worries in this world, but I feel broken like a china plate, and no spell could repair the damage done._

_You wrote once that you would not rob me of joys to come, but what of heartbreak? Now I wish you did sweep me away, for then I would be happy for Ron instead of feeling cast aside so casually and ignored. I feel dowdy and ugly and plain, for Lavender is beautiful, and blond and pretty, all the things I am not. It seems Ron only cares for looks, and therefore, he doesn't want me._

_The Sirius I know would tell me that any man who cherishes looks and nothing else would not be deserving of all the things you have praised in me, but it is of little consolation._

_Harry is of great comfort, providing me a shoulder while understanding my pain. Had I brother, I wish he would be just like Harry._

_How I wish I could bury my face in your neck and let your fur absorb my tears as I cry. You would, no doubt, lick my salty tears away. I miss you, dear friend._

_Yours truly,_

_Hermione's  
_

Sirius wrote Hermione, assuring her that he would not have deprived her of experiencing heartbreak, as it is a key experience to youth, for life if full of the bitter and the sweet. He did wish that her anguish would be quick and fade soon.

Over winter and spring, they corresponded. With news of Ron's poisoning and conjecture over the source of the poison, Sirius warned Hermione to take care. Plans were afoot and he sensed something terrible might befall her, since those close to Harry were obviously not spared of malevolent intent. When Hermione passed her Apparition test, she mentioned that she might be able to visit him a few times over the summer, since she could now get around by herself.

Sirius replied that she was always welcome to pop by, though he might not always be at home, off on Order business at times.

With the Death of Dumbledore, it seemed everything had changed. Plans and hopes for a seventh year were set aside, as Hermione promised to join Harry during his hunt for the Horcruxes.

After Hermione altered her parents’ memories, erasing herself from their minds and life completely, she showed up on Sirius' doorstep. Opening the door, he saw a witch drawn to the edge of her sanity, balancing on the edge of a knife.

Closing the door, he then turned into Padfoot, knowing this was who she needed the most right now.

Padfoot led Hermione up to Sirius' bedroom, where she laid next to him sobbing for the next few hours. In between her hitching breaths, she told Padfoot of what she's done, knowing it's for the best, but wondering if she could ever forgive herself. He quietly listened and licked away her salty tears.

After her tears were spent, Hermione slept deeply, warm and secure by the soft fur caressing her cheek and arms.

Sometime in the pre-dawn hours, Hermione awoke to find Padfoot dreaming. He was whimpering and his legs moves, as if he is chasing something, or running away. With a yelp, he awoke with a start.

Hermione stroked Padfoot along the length of his body, cooing, “It's all right. I know.” Curling up behind him, she continued to whisper sweetly soft assurances it would be okay. She knew it wouldn't be all right, but hope was the only thing that was keeping both going.

Without a word, Hermione undressed, letting Padfoot gaze at the young witch she has blossomed into, letting him drinking the changes in her body since they were last together two years prior.

Hermione slid back into bed, taking Padfoot into her arms. She truthfully confessed, “I'm worried that I won't live to see the end of this war. I'm afraid we'll lose and Harry will die. I'm afraid Ron won't live either, and I still have hopes of Ron and me being together some day. I wonder if I'll die a virgin, never knowing what it is to make love. And as much as I want to feel you inside of me, both as Padfoot and as Sirius, I still want to cling to some silly notion that Ron and I will be together some day and I want him to be my first.” The tears began afresh as she continued, “I want to save myself for Ron. As much as I want you, if I have you, it's like I'm giving up, knowing I'll die, and I don't want to die a virgin. I need to have something to hold out for, something to live and hope for. But I still need you, once more before I go. Can you understand?”

Padfoot nodded and gave a short yelp, before licking away her tears.

Hermione sprawled on her back as Padfoot licked at her breasts voraciously, feeling the same burning urge to please her as she needed to be fulfilled.

As she came with his snout buried firmly between her thighs, Hermione called out his human name. “Yes, Sirius, oh, yes!”

Hermione returned the gesture, as always, but this time included her mouth to add to Padfoot's pleasure as she stroked him to completion. She licked and sucked him until his cock swelled so large that she could no longer take him into her mouth. This time she tasted his essence while in his other form, and found it tasted the same as when he was a wizard. Inside he was still the same, regardless of what he looked like on the outside.

In the tender moments, during their denouement together, Hermione did not confess anything more. She had said her peace. This time she stayed with Padfoot, no longer having to sneak away for fear of being caught. 

They both drifted off to sleep, a brief and brilliantly burning connection fulfilled on the cusp of war.

~xXx~

Hermione was getting cold feet. The wedding was less than a month away, but she wasn't sure if she was ready for this step.

Sirius was not surprised when he found Hermione upon his doorstep once more. Ever since that once night she slept in his bed, they had kept their relationship strictly platonic. Hermione was with Ron, but that did not mean Hermione could confide everything to Harry about her boyfriend, Ron, who was now her fiancé.

Hermione had listened to Sirius complain about his continued loneliness and in ability to connect with others, especially since Lupin died during the war. She had provided a shoulder, and had been his confessor, since he didn't want to burden or worry Harry with his problems. Besides, Hermione was much more mature and understood emotionally the demons Sirius was battling.

Now it was time for Sirius to be the Agony Aunt and listen to Hermione's concerns about marrying Ron Weasley.

“I know I love Ron, and this is always what I've wanted for so long, but I can't help but feel as if there is something else. Or maybe we're rushing this,” Hermione said plainly and honestly.

Sensing her nerves were rattled, Sirius Summoned a bottle of strong spirits.

As Hermione nursed her second shot, she felt bold enough, thanks to the liquid courage, to say what she really wanted to say when she intended to come over here.

“I have to confess, Sirius, that I'm not just nervous about marrying Ron. Part of me wonders...” Hermione stopped and backed up her tale a bit. “You know about Ron and my sex life.” 

She paused, having told Sirius over the years about the really awful first time her and Ron made love, and how little it had improved in that arena. She had asked Sirius for tips on how to improve their sex life, but such suggestions were always interpreted as criticism by Ron. 

“I mean, he says the idea of going down on a witch is disgusting and that he doesn't want to do anything down there for fear he might be licking my piss. Not to mention making that crude joke about God poorly designing a woman by putting the shit hole next to the snack bar. I mean, even after I'm fresh out of the shower, he refuses, yet he has no qualms about me giving him blow jobs and it's been at least a day since he showered. It's a wholly unfair double standard, is what it is!”

“Too right. The boy doesn't know what he's missing,” Sirius chimed in. “I must confess you're not my first witch I've done such things to, as I was very popular back at Hogwarts,” he confessed unabashedly with a shrug, “but you, my dear, are by far the most responsive and tasty witch I ever had the privilege of going down on. You're like manna!” 

“And I can't exactly tell Ron that I've had that done to me before. He says I can't miss what I don't know, as a flippant way to say he's never going to try!” Hermione cried out in frustration.

Squaring her shoulders, Hermione face Sirius and said, “The reason why I came over here is because before I get married, I want to have one really good fuck – two actually. From both Padfoot and you, Sirius. I know since I've been together with Ron we've stuck to being friends and you haven't made any advancements, and you listened to me pour my heart out, but if I don't at least see what I might have missed out on, I'll kick myself my wedding night.

“Fuck me,” Hermione stated simply as she finished draining the last of her second shot of Old Ogden's.

Sirius licked his lips as his eyes glazed over, lustfully appraising the witch before him. “Just tell me who you want first.”

“Since Ron is clumsy at seduction, I would like to know what it would be like to be properly seduced. I want you, Sirius to make love to me slowly, undress me, tease me, make me beg, and then take me,” Hermione requested.

Now standing before her, he reached for her hand. Hermione placed hers in his, and was expecting to be hauled up out of her seat and dragged off to his bedroom, but was stunned when Sirius merely bent over, and with a courtly bow, kissed her hand.

“May I say, Miss Granger, that never such a delightful proposition has ever been presented to me. I humbly and gratefully accept your request to bestow upon you the delights so you richly deserve to experience.”

Guiding her up from her seat, he tucked her arm in his and escorted her out of the kitchen to the hallway. As they walked along, Sirius trailed his fingers lazily up her inner arm, making Hermione thrill at the sensation. How a simple touch could render her breathless, she could not fathom. Perhaps it was the anticipation, maybe it was the thrill of it all, maybe it was the taboo aspect of taking a lover to bed when she was to be married soon. Either way, she felt a long forgotten glowing heat begin to grow in her abdomen, a feeling Ron had rarely, if ever, brought out in her.

Once up in his bedroom, Sirius and Hermione kissed. This was the first time they have ever properly snogged, and Hermione found that the wizard could kiss like a demon. At one point he had her pinned up against a bookcase, trailing kisses down her neck, making her pant loudly, begging for more, lost in a delirious haze of lust and desire.

When she no longer could stand it, she begged him to undress her. Slowly, as each article of clothing was shucked, it was followed by kisses mapping each newly exposed expanse of skin.

Dressed only in her knickers and bra, Sirius stopped and appreciated the beautiful French lingerie Hermione had donned before coming over. 

“Such delightfully firm breasts, dressed in fine colorful lace, skin pale as alabaster. You are a Grecian statue of womanly perfection come to life,” Sirius growled as he kissed his was along her shoulders before his slid the straps of her brassiere from her shoulders.

Now only in her knickers, Sirius asked Hermione to undress him, allowing her the same pleasure.

This was something completely new for Hermione, as Ron usually just yanked his clothes off and was ready to go, or just shoved his trousers past his knees before mounting her. This was Hermione's first seduction, and she reveled in it.

Slowly, Hermione undid buttons, zippers and claps. She kissed each of his tattoos and nibbled his neck as he had done to her, licking his ear, which elicited a shudder of delight from him. 

As Hermione pushed his underpants down his hips and past his knees, she saw his cock standing at attention. It was just as she remembered that one night. Unable to wait, she took him in her mouth, having longed for the taste of him after so long. Kneeling before him, she wrapped her hands around his hips and urged him to fuck her mouth as she stroked and licked and caressed his sac in time with her movements.

Before he could come, Sirius stopped her, wishing to save his energy for other things.

Now inflamed, Sirius picked up Hermione, scooping her up off the floor and into her arms, and tossed her roughly onto the bed. Before Hermione could prop herself up, Sirius used his hands to spread Hermione's thighs wide and gaze at her sex.

“Oh, I have missed this, and what a joy it is to feast upon you, my Queen; my most brilliant and noble queenly one,” he confessed.

Hermione lay back in awe of Sirius' words and the look of reverence on his face as he spoke. He then quickly shoved his face between her legs and began eating Hermione out. He lapped and licked and nibbled on her clit, as he placed fingers inside of Hermione to palpitate her sacred spot, bringing her to her first of many orgasms. He kept on bringing her to climax, twice more before she begged him to stop and finally take her.

As he settled between Hermione's thighs, he gazed down at her, his long black hair framing her face. Tenderly, changing the pace in the momentum, he played with her breasts, nipping with his lips, having her experience a wizard excite her with such play, remembering Hermione complain about how bored she was when Ron played with her breasts.

She arched her back and mewled wantonly as he suckled and flicked her nipples with his tongue.

“Yes, Sirius. Take me. Take all of me. Leave nothing behind. Devour everything,” she breathed in anticipation, unable to wait any longer.

Sirius rubbed his head around her entrance to ease penetration before sliding himself into her warm, snug heat.

Both threw their heads back and cried out in pleasure.

Hermione chanted with growing ferocity. “Fuck me, that's it, fuck me!” She asked him periodically to go harder and deeper, enjoying how he filled her so thoroughly.

Sirius was larger than Ron, a lot larger. And it almost was too much, but it felt so good to be utterly filled to capacity, she begged for more.

Sirius hooked her knees over his elbows and drove into her deeper, loving the sight of her thrashing about, eyes shut tight, mouth in a grimace of ecstasy, and the sound of her screaming his name. 

“Yes, Sirius, take me. I'm yours! Fuck me!” There were other expletives indicating his size, in a very vulgar yet complimentary fashion, and that he fucked like a demon possessed.

In a fever of lust, Sirius withdrew and flipped Hermione over, lifting her hips up indicating he was going to take her from behind.

“Yes, take me this way,” she begged. “Bite my neck.”

 

After Sirius roughly plunged himself back into Hermione, who arched her back at the welcomed intrusion once more, he leaned forward and latched his teeth to the top of the shoulder.

 

Gritting though his teeth, he asked, “You like to be bitten?”

 

“Yes, I find that cat part of me still lingers to be mounted like this,” she admitted, arching her back with each of this thrusts, as they momentarily slowed down the pace. 

As he slowly slid in and out of her, Hermione said, “You call me your Queen, but I can't tell you how often I've fantasized of being mounted like one. You humping me, and me feeling your hot breath on my neck as you pump away furiously, filling and stretching me when we knot together. I wish I studied to be an Animagus, to see if I could be one. And if I was a dog, I'd gladly be your bitch.”

Hermione's confession drove Sirius into a frenzy. He pushed her flat onto the mattress and began furiously pumping away, biting her neck, breathing hard and grunting with each thrust.

This turned Hermione on, as this was exactly what she wanted, either with Sirius or Padfoot. She wanted to rut with an animalistic savagery.

Sirius snaked a hand around Hermione's hip and underneath, finding her clit. He began stroking away at the small nerve bundle of flesh as she continued to thrust into her, her chants encouraging him to keep it up.

Soon, Hermione came, screaming into the mattress and bucking up against Sirius.

Sirius pulled Hermione back onto her hands and knees, finishing himself by slamming into her from her behind, almost bringing her to another orgasm with him inside her.

As they lay in a tangle of arms and legs, both trying to catch their breath, Hermione smiled with great satisfaction. “Oh, sweet heaven and hell. Now I know what I've been missing out on,” she sighed with contentment.

Sirius felt pity for her, that she had to cheat on her fiancé in order to experience pleasure and satisfaction such as this, and for the first time. But if Hermione was willing to do this to satisfy some need before she could face walking down the aisle, and locking herself eternally in matrimony to Ron, then he was happy to help a friend in need.

 

Sirius kissed her tenderly, holding her close, thanking her for allowing him the privilege of doing this for her.

Stroking the side of his face with her palm, she said, “Thank you for not judging me. Harry and Ginny certainly wouldn't understand.”

“As much as I will miss the taste and feel of you, I sincerely do hope that Ron can learn to pleasure you the way you should be, to make love to you and make you climax, for you are glorious site when you do. I hope he soon brings that joy to you,” Sirius wished, with all his sincerity. He really did hope that they would have a satisfying sex life eventually.

After a brief nap and a light supper together, there was one matter to still address.

Dabbing the corner of his mouth with his napkin and setting it on the table, Sirius turned into the familiar large, black bear-sized dog that Hermione had confessed so many secrets to and padded over to her.

“Shall we got to the library for old time sake?” Hermione suggested with a wicked grin.

Sirius jumped back and put his paws out front, his shoulders and head low to the ground, rump up in the air and tail wagging excitedly. He let out a yelp of eager excitement. Sirius jumped up and promptly shoved a nose under her dressing gown and between Hermione's legs, sniffing the beginning of her arousal, his nose pressed tight up against her curls.

In the library, Hermione quickly shucked off her dressing gown. She was so aroused with anticipation of what was to come, she could feel that she was already soddenly damp between her legs. There was a fire burning brightly in the fireplace, casting the room in bright, sharp golden light. 

As Hermione sat on the edge of the couch, Padfoot came over and began lapping at Hermione's breasts.

“You know, there is a potion supposedly, that can cause witches who haven't been pregnant to start lactating. If I had taken it, you could lick the milk from the tips of my breasts. Does that sound too weird?” she asked with uncertainty.

Sirius jumped back and barked, jumping back and forth, yipping frantically that indeed that was not weird and he would indeed like that.

“Then maybe one more visit before the wedding and we can try that,” she suggested.

Padfoot bounded over and licked Hermione's face excitedly. Soon, Sirius was swiping his rough tongue along her nipples. She noticed how different it felt from when Sirius suckled and played with them. In both instanced, it was very pleasurable, yet this was more familiar. 

Soon, Padfoot had his snout between Hermione's legs as she reclined back on the couch. She had missed this. As glorious as Sirius' techniques at cunnilingus were and how he brought her very powerful orgasms, this was something she longed for. The pass of Padfoot's tongue over her clit, the probing of that long tongue into her depths, that nose nudging against her clit, rubbing it as that tongue entered and withdrew repeatedly until she eventually came with a hoarse cry, nearly whimpering with plaintive release.

Ready and aroused, Hermione rolled over and kneeled on the floor, bracing her upper body on the couch. Looking over her shoulder, she said, “Take me, Padfoot. I want to be your bitch.” It was not said in any crude or lascivious way, but with tenderness and sweet intent she wanted to finally join with the patient and attentive beast who was her first lover.

Padfoot came over and licked Hermione's back, which made her arch her back to better present herself. With a swipe of his tongue, he licked her labia from behind, tasting her arousal, feeling her wetness.

With a small whine in the back of his throat, Padfoot, walked up behind Hermione and moved his pawns up into the couch straddling Hermione.

She could feel the length of his body pressing down along her back and the movement of his hips thrusting forward, his soft fur rubbing against her skin exciting her further. He searched for her entrance with the tip of his cock that she could feel brush against her inner thigh.

Padfoot whined impatiently, as he was trying to find the right spot. Hermione reached around and guided Padfoot until he was positioned just so. 

With a jerk of his hips, Padfoot thrust into Hermione. She gasped at the intrusion, as it felt different from Ron or Sirius. As Padfoot settled in, he began pumping away furiously, with jackrabbit speed, which made Hermione scream. She punctuated her screams with affirmations he was doing it right and pleasing her, so as not to be confused by her cries.

Padfoot's paws slid down and clasped her tight at the waist with his forelegs, clutching her tight as his hips jerked forward, tucking inward instinctively. He leaned forward and gently nipped at her shoulder, licking and whining as he pumped away.

Suddenly, Hermione could feel him expand, stretching her vaginal walls as he began to swell and knot inside of her. 

“Oh, fucking hell! You feel so fucking huge! God, you feel incredible!” she moaned with rapture.

Hermione had known how large Padfoot's erect swollen cock was, having given him many hand jobs before. She knew Padfoot was larger than both Ron and Sirius. Feeling him inside of her, stretching her sent her over the edge.

She came, bellowing, “Yes,” over and over again as she orgasmed, shuddering and yowling at the top of her lungs.

To prolong the pleasure, Hermione reached a hand down and stroked her clit, bringing her to peak once again. With the prolonged presence of Padfoot's swollen cock instead of her, knotted with Hermione and unable to go anywhere, she continued to stroke her clit resulting in a series of small orgasms, coming time and time again.

Padfoot panted heavily, whimpering and whining, feeling Hermione's vaginal wall clamp down around him and massage his swollen knot with each orgasm. 

Finally, Hermione stopped.

Gasping for breath, she sighed, “That was the most incredibly intense feeling I have ever felt. Thank you, Padfoot. Thank you, Sirius.”

There was a brief fleeting moment where Hermione thought to call off the wedding, move in with Sirius and fuck Sirius' and Padfoot's brains out for the rest of her life.

Finally, after several minutes of quietude, Hermione could feel Padfoot deflate and slip out of her.

Normally after Hermione brought Padfoot off by hand or mouth, he was still alert enough to lick her tenderly. This time, Padfoot collapsed and fell asleep on the floor where he lay.

Hermione curled up behind Padfoot, enjoying the feel of his fur against her bare skin. She stroked and petted and caressed him, saying sweet things, knowing he was already asleep. She slept with him on the floor.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Hermione woke to Padfoot licking their mixed essence that had spread down her thighs. They mated with feverish want twice more, and once more with him as Sirius by the pale morning light.

Hermione returned once more, two days later with the potion to induce lactation. One moment she found especially tender was when Sirius suckled from her breasts while she gave him a hand job. There was something very intimate in that act of her stroking him as he suckled her sweet milk from her breasts, feeling nourished and loved.

Twice more after that, they spent the entire night enthralled in each other's arms and presence. At no point did Sirius question her reasons for being with him when she was a bride to be with an impending wedding. He pleased her without judgment, and thrilled in the simple pleasure of her company, be it for conversation or carnal pleasures, often both.

A few weeks later Hermione stood at the alter; when the Ministry officiant asked if there was anyone who had a reason why she and Ron should not be joined in marriage, she hoped Sirius would have spoken up and said something, before whisking her away. 

Instead, Sirius knew she could have walked away from the wedding anytime she wanted. She didn't need him as an excuse to not marry Ron.

At the reception, Sirius kissed Hermione upon the cheek, and congratulated Ron for landing such a wonderful witch for his bride and wife.

~xXx~

Hermione and Sirius corresponded over the years, never making mention or alluding to their prior clandestine rendezvous. The last time they had been together intimately, she had told him that she would miss him for the rest of her days. There was no need to mention how they longed for each other.

With Rose and Hugo both away at Hogwarts, the strains of their marriage began to show. All the fears Hermione expressed to Padfoot and Sirius about marrying Ron had come to pass. Ron was unreliable, argumentative, lazy, and constantly took Hermione for granted, not to mention their continued lack of sexual chemistry.

Hermione could not tell Harry about her troubles, since he was Ron's best friend. Nor could Ginny be confided in, as she was Ron's sister, though probably more sympathetic to Hermione than Harry would be. 

All through her marriage, Sirius was there, in person and through correspondence. He was willing to respect her unwillingness for any physicality to pass between them while she was married to Ron, even when she showed up on his doorstep, eyes full of tears and heart full of frustration over her unhappy marriage. Even when both were drunk, having down many shots of fine spirits, Hermione would not go there, even with their prior dalliances while she was engaged. 

One November evening, while the children were away: Hugo was in his third year and Rose in her fifth year at Hogwarts, Hermione and Ron had a spectacular row.

As Hermione stormed upstairs, Ron yelled at her back, “Don't bother going to Harry and Ginny's, since that's where I'm going tonight.”

When there was no response to Ron's threat, he continued to stand there at the foot of the stairs waiting for Hermione to make her usual disparaging reply about his emotional shortcomings.

What Ron didn't expect was for Hermione to come back downstairs with her own suitcase packed.

“Don't bother. I'm leaving this time. And for good!” she said with some finality, having made up her mind to finally leave her husband.

“Where are you going?” Ron asked with a near shriek, surprised she was the one leaving since he was the one who usually took off for a day or two until cooler heads prevailed.

“To someone who appreciates me,” was her only answer before Apparating away from the middle of their living room.

When Sirius heard the knock upon his door, he had a feeling it would be her. Opening the door, he saw her suitcase there by her feet.

Looking up at her closest friend, she asked, “Years ago you once wrote that you would ask me to be yours, appreciating a mind as brilliant and a heart as loving and compassionate as mine. Would you still want and love a witch who just left her unappreciative husband for good?”

Sirius smiled at her. “I've loved you long before you married him, and you're welcome to stay here for the rest of our lives.”

“What will we say when Harry finds out I've left Ron for you?”

“That you've come to your senses, and this time you're with someone who makes you happy finally?” Sirius suggested with a shrug before turning into Padfoot.

Hermione laughed and brought her suitcase in, closing the door behind her.

Padfoot shoved his nose between her legs, already smelling a scent he had not smelled in a very long time, and longed for.

“Who's my good boy?” Hermione asked in a sing-songy voice as she knelt and down rubbed his fur, laughing as he licked her face.

Padfoot barked and ran off, leading the way to the library, his tail wagging excitedly.

~The End~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can comment here or [on Livejournal](http://hp-kinkfest.livejournal.com/169646.html)


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